


An Open Invitation

by gaslightgallows (hearts_blood)



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Episode Tag, F/F, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Old Friends, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 16:12:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6016060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearts_blood/pseuds/gaslightgallows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mac and Phryne enjoy a night at the Windsor. (Takes place between "Cocaine Blues" and "Murder on the Ballarat Train")</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Open Invitation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whiskeyandjack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeyandjack/gifts).



> Happy Valentine's Day. ♥

It was their last night at the Windsor. Tomorrow Phryne and Dot would be off to Ballarat on the train, to collect Phryne’s spiffing new motorcar (something fast and expensive and undoubtedly a deathtrap, if Mac knew her old friend), and after that, Phryne Fisher would be moving into a gorgeous Italianate house in St. Kilda. Mac had passed the house, called Wardlow, more than once, on the rare occasions that her professional obligations took her to that part of Melbourne. It was about as far from their childhoods in the slums of Collingwood as one could get.

“I’d be envious,” Mac commented with a grin as she sprawled on Phryne’s lavish hotel bed in her shirtsleeves, with her shoes off and a cocktail in her hand, “but to tell you the truth, the idea of owning a house and having to decorate it and maintain it and _entertain_ people fills me with unutterable loathing.”

Phryne laughed and wriggled her bare toes on the soft white sheets. “If I had to scrub and clean the place and hang up all the pictures myself, I’d be taking up permanent residence here. I’m hiring _staff_ , Mac.”

“Oh God, that’s even worse! No thanks. I like my messes just as I arrange them, without the headache of telling the people I pay to clean my flat—or would pay, if I didn’t have better things to spend my shillings on, like extra morphine for the surgical ward and expensive whiskey for myself—to leave my flat well enough alone.” Mac downed the rest of her drink and squirmed her way across the bed, laying her head in Phryne’s lap. She was wearing only thin satin camiknickers, and the warmth of her thighs and belly felt very good on the back of Mac's head. “I take it you’ve no objection to me spending the night?”

Phryne stroked Mac’s wavy red hair, slowly pulling out the pins that held it all together and laying them on the nightstand, and carding her fingers through the thick coppery tresses. “You’re always welcome, you know that.”

Mac reached up and pulled Phryne down for a long, thorough kiss. “Oh, it’s about bloody time,” she sighed when they parted. “I’ve missed you, Phryne... You know, I’ve been wanting to do that since the moment you leaped off the gangplank.”

“Darling Mac, you could have done that at any moment you liked.”

“When did I have the time?” Mac snorted. “When we were tasting cocaine nerve powders and talking about illegal abortions? Or what about in between you antagonizing that good-looking police detective and you nearly being suffocated to death in a Turkish bath? Ooh! Or after you were done bedding that walking leotard with the accent and the cheekbones?”

Phryne rolled her smoky green eyes. “It was only once,” she retorted, tugging lightly on Mac’s hair. “Besides, for my oldest friend, who I haven’t seen in what, eight years? I would have thrown Sasha out on his ear.” She twisted round and laid down next to Mac, cuddling up close to her side. “And,” she continued, rather pointedly, sneaking a hand into the open neck of Mac’s shirt, “you know you always have an open invitation to join me and whatever young blood I'm entertaining.”

“I made the mistake of taking you up on that once,” said Mac dryly. “No, thank you, for the present. I’ll make the most of this last night of privacy, and enjoy you all by myself.” She stretched her long limbs and turned onto her side, tangling her tweed-covered legs with Phryne’s bare ones. For a long time after that, there was no other sound, save for the rustle of soft cloth as it hit the floor, and the murmur of soft sighs that crept higher and higher until both Phryne and Mac lay gasping and sweating in one another’s arms, tangled in the Irish linen sheets. “And tomorrow you’ll be out of here and back in the public eye, and probably having your pick of the city's young men, as usual.”

“Well, it’s not as though I’m hurting your chances,” Phryne teased, kissing Mac’s cheek. “And if you’re worried about me finding someone who suits me as much as you do... stop it.” Her eyes were soft for a moment. “My door’s always open to you.”

“Hmph. Provided I can find it. Still, at least you buying a house means you’ll be setting down roots for a while.” Mac pulled Phryne closer. “And something tells me that as long as you’re in this city, I won’t have any trouble finding _you_ , for a change.”


End file.
